


Once Upon a Time

by Miss_Peg



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Remix, Romance, king arthur - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:43:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Peg/pseuds/Miss_Peg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After suffering the loss of his father, Wayne finds himself feeling out of his depth. But with the help of his maiden, Grace, things begin to look a little better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upon a Time

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Always There](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/22296) by vanrigsby. 



> I took the remixathon challenge on Paint It Red in quite a random direction, instead of rewriting the story from a different point of view or focusing on a snippet of a story I decided to rewrite it in another universe entirely. Thanks to tromana for betaing this for me. Thanks for vanrigsby for writing the original story which inspired this random witterings.

Once upon a time in a Kingdom far from California, there lived a young man. Young Wayne Arthur was forced into a life of seclusion from the day of his birth. Plagued by a troubled land, his father was forced to send him into the deepest depths of the forest with only a maiden and his mother for company. As the years passed, his mother grew tired of living a hermit’s life; she longed for physical contact with men and disappeared into the night in search of something more. Thankfully Wayne Arthur’s maiden was a generous lady who made sure that he was educated by the brightest and best scholar she could find. When Wayne Arthur was but fourteen years old, she ensured that the best knightsman in the Kingdom attended their home and trained Wayne Arthur in battle.

After many years of learning about the world, Wayne Arthur grew curious about some of the things he’d discovered in books and a few that he’d learned from the knightsman. Most importantly, he wondered what life might be like to have a female by his side. He made it clear to his maiden that he appreciated everything she had done for him, but that he knew there must be something more out there. Of course, the maiden wanted what was best for Wayne Arthur; he was the closest thing she had to a child of her own and she would have done anything to make him happy. So she handed in her resignation to the young man’s father and requested that her niece take over. After all, if she couldn’t look after Wayne Arthur herself, then there was no one she trusted more than her own family.

It took very little time for Wayne Arthur to become acquaintanced with his new maiden, though given the similarity in ages he considered her more of a companion.

‘Grace, what’s the world like, outside?’ he asked as he spooned sweet gruel into his mouth.

‘There are lots of people,’ she replied, watching him as he finished off the last morsels of his breakfast.

‘Is everyone as sweet and lovely as you?’

Grace looked at him morosely, ‘Most people just want to get on with their lives and don’t mind helping out their neighbours. But there are some who are cruel and dangerous.’

‘It doesn’t sound like a very nice place,’ said Wayne Arthur, contemplating everything he’d learned. ‘Are there still wars?’

‘There’s always wars; King Stephen Uther is currently fighting King John of Rouge,’ said Grace, picking up her wicker basket and slipping her cloak around her shoulders. ‘I have to go to the castle now to buy food for tomorrow.’

In the hours that Grace was gone, Wayne Arthur stood in the doorway of the cottage and waited. When his previous maiden had taken her daily trip to the castle he had used the time to study or practice his skills. Occasionally he would read a book for pleasure or repair anything that needed fixing. Not once had he stood in the doorway waiting. But from the moment that Grace left the cottage an intense pain hit him in the chest and he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He considered following her, but he didn’t know the way and feared what could be out there. Instead, he just waited until he caught a glimpse of her fiery hair through the trees.

‘Grace,’ he shouted, a large smile resting on his lips. As soon as she had reached the cottage he wrapped her up in a hug and prepared to tell her about his pain, but when he opened his mouth to speak he realised that he’d never felt better. It was only then that he realised that Grace was crying.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I have news from the castle,’ she said, looking down at her feet. Wayne Arthur held her in his arms and lifted her chin until her beautiful eyes met his.

‘Please tell me.’

‘It’s your father, he died.’

Wayne Arthur stared at her for a moment until his eyes clouded over with tears and he turned away. He would not let Grace see him cry. Whatever he did, he would save his tears for the moment he went to bed.

‘I’m very sorry,’ said Grace, wrapping her own lithe hands around his broad shoulders until he felt comforted by her embrace. He rested his head on her shoulder and breathed in the sweet scent of lilac mixed with the unusual but beautiful smell that was simply Grace. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I will be,’ he smiled, pushing his thumb across her cheek to wipe away her own tears. ‘Don’t cry.’

When Grace tucked him up in bed that night, Wayne Arthur pulled the sheets around his shoulders and allowed the gentle shake of his body that came with great sobs. He considered the man that had been his father, a man whom he’d never actually met but had been told many things about. His previous maiden had known him well and through her stories, it was as though he knew the man well. Wayne Arthur tried to think of the stories he had to tell, stories that were inferior to anything his father had ever done and that was what made him all the more upset. He longed to have a memory of his father teaching him to use a sword, or telling him about girls like the knightsman had. He’d harboured feelings for Grace for longer than he cared to remember and yet he didn’t know what to do about it because nobody had ever taught him that.

The next morning, Grace went early to the castle in order to pick up the sweetest strawberries as a special treat. Once again, Wayne Arthur spent the next few hours standing in the doorway waiting for the moment when he caught sight of her beautiful hair. In the time he waited he spotted a white orchid growing not far from the door, so he pulled it out of the ground roots and all and replanted it in a pot. Unlike the day before, when Grace arrived home she ran to the doorway, stopping only because Wayne Arthur’s arms pulled her close.

‘This is for you,’ he said, holding the pot towards her.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she smiled, accepting his gift and taking it along with the strawberries to the kitchen. ‘Thank you, Wayne.’

‘Why are you so happy?’ he asked, sitting down at the table and waiting for her response.

Grace turned around, placing the punnet of strawberries back on the sideboard as she glided into the seat opposite.

‘There’s going to be a new king, they don’t know who will get the crown but the old wizard Merlin has placed a sword into a stone. When I arrived this morning, there was a line a mile long of men and women trying to pull the sword from the stone. Whoever does so will be the next King.’

‘Did anyone succeed?’

‘Not when I left; maybe tomorrow you could come with me to the castle and have a go?’ she said, resting her hands over his. Wayne Arthur looked down at her fingers as they circled his skin and he became transfixed.

‘Have a go at what?’

‘Pulling the sword from the stone.’

Finally, he lifted his head and stared at her aghast. ‘Me? I couldn’t be King, there’s no reason to try.’

‘It could be anyone.’

‘Then you try.’

‘It won’t be me. I’m the daughter of a seamstress, I’m nothing special. But you,’ Grace’s voice trailed off into silence, her cheeks flush.

‘I’ve never even left the house.’

He didn’t understand why Grace would want him to be part of something so pointless. Wayne Arthur knew that he wasn’t a king; after all, he’d never met more than half a dozen people in his entire life. He lived in solitude and that was just the way he liked it. The kings he read about in his books were brave, they took adventures and risks, they looked after their people and they killed others to protect their land. Wayne Arthur couldn’t understand why anyone would want to kill another living soul.

Despite his refusal to attend the castle with Grace, she kept on asking and told him stories of people who had tried and failed to pull the sword from the stone. Wayne Arthur’s particular favourite was of a young woman with hair as dark as a raven that had pulled her skirt up to her knees and yanked so hard on the sword’s handle that when her fingers slipped off the rubber she tumbled backwards and the whole crowd could see her undergarments.

‘Why would someone humiliate themselves in such a way?’ he asked.

But Grace only laughed, ‘That’s just Teresa Lisbon, she believes a woman can do anything a man can do.’

One morning, after a particularly bad night filled with the most intense fever, Wayne Arthur woke up with his sheets tangled around his legs and a chill on his chest. He shouted for Grace but she didn’t respond. After glancing out of the window he realised that the day was almost half over, so he quickly washed and went to the doorway to wait for Grace’s return.

And he waited.

And waited.

Until night fell across the land and Wayne Arthur struggled to see beyond the nearest trees. He squinted his eyes and waited a little longer until the moon disappeared behind the clouds. He didn’t want to, but he gave up and found some stale bread from the day before and went to bed.

When the sun came up the next morning, Grace was still nowhere to be seen. The ache in his chest intensified until he felt like he couldn’t breathe any longer. He had to find her.

But when he got dressed and stepped out into the yard, he realised how difficult it was for him to find his way. He had never been to the castle before and there was no one around to ask for directions. In fact, when he walked around to the other side of the cottage in search of a path all he could see was the same set of trees as on the front side of the house. Wayne Arthur went back to the door and looked up into the sky. The sun shone brightly over his head. Wayne Arthur took the ladder from inside the cottage and pushed it up against a tree; he’d read about this in books and figured it couldn’t be that difficult. So he climbed the ladder and then he climbed the tree until he could see out across the top of its branches. There in the distance was a large, stone castle. Getting down from the tree wasn’t easy, but after a few small tumbles, Wayne Arthur finally set forth in the direction of the castle.

It took him several hours to find his way, but as the number of people increased, he found it easier to find what he was looking for.

‘Grace,’ he shouted, searching the crowds of people gathered around market stalls. He’d never seen so many people in one place before. He’d expected to feel afraid but nothing was going to stop him from finding the girl that he loved. ‘Grace!’

Eventually, in the distance, he could see the brightest red locks and he ran as fast as he could until he stumbled over a wicker basket and fell into the dirt. When he looked up he came face to face with a man with blonde curls wearing bright colours and a funny three point hat. He stared down at Wayne Arthur.

‘What do you call a juggler without his balls?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know,’ said Wayne Arthur and as he dusted himself off, he noticed three colourful balls scattered around the floor. ‘Are those your balls?’

The jester scowled and moved along the line of people, it was only when the sun bounced off the silver of the sword that Wayne Arthur realised where he had landed.

‘Is that?’ he asked, his hand outstretched to the hilt, but the jester shook his head and pointed to the end of the line.

Wayne Arthur glanced down the line of people which stretched so far that he couldn’t even see the end. He returned his attention to the jester who wrapped both hands around the sword and pulled as hard as he could. He tried for a good few minutes until a guard pushed him out of the way. Wayne Arthur watched him walking away from the sword, a scowl on his face until he had returned to his market stall. There, Wayne Arthur was reminded of his quest, Grace was stood on one side with her hands bound behind her back and a rag in her mouth.

‘Wait,’ Wayne Arthur shouted, stalking across the dirt floor until he stopped beside the shorter man. ‘What are you doing with Grace?’

‘She’s part of my act.’

‘No she’s not, she’s my companion,’ he said, reaching out to her bound wrists.

‘Get your hands off her,’ said the jester. ‘Haven’t you seen the colour of her hair? Like fire. She’s a witch, she’s my witch, and she’s going to be a part of my act.’

‘Like hell she will,’ said Wayne Arthur, his eyes glazing over with anger as he leapt at the man. But he was too fast for him and he scurried out of the way.

‘Over here,’ he taunted and Wayne Arthur ran towards him.

They chased each other back and forth for a moment until the jester picked up a brass sword from a box and held it out in front of him. Wayne Arthur recognised his request for a battle, but he hadn’t even considered bringing his sword with him.

‘Has anybody got a sword I can borrow?’ he asked, but the crowd that was gathering looked on nonchalantly.

‘I don’t want to fight you,’ said the jester and he took his sword towards Grace and held it up high.

‘No!’ Wayne Arthur shouted as he ran towards the nearest sword he could see, he collided forcefully with a stocky man with dark hair pushing him out of the way as he wrapped one hand around the hilt of the sword. He pulled it quickly out of the stone and ran towards the jester.

But as he moved faster, the people around him slowed and sunk to their knees including the jester himself.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Wayne Arthur, glaring at the man whose blonde curls clung to his sweaty forehead.

Then he turned around and watched as more and more people sunk to their knees and bowed their heads, the swordless stone visible behind them. His hand shook as he sliced the ropes binding Grace’s hands together and he ran off into the forest.

He didn’t know how he found his way home, but he moved fast through the maze of trees until the little cottage stood out in a clearing up ahead and he ran inside. Wayne Arthur’s heart thumped so hard in his chest that he wondered if he was still ill.

‘Wayne Arthur,’ Grace shouted as she entered the cottage and wrapped her arms around him tightly. ‘You’re my hero…and the King.’

She looked so happy, her eyes filled with tears but Wayne Arthur could barely open his mouth to speak.

‘I always suspected that you were King Stephen Uther Rigsby’s son, but my aunt could never tell me the truth. She was sworn to a magical oath.’

‘I’m not King,’ he shouted, pushing her aside as he sunk into the nearest chair. Grace sat down beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder.

‘Yes, you are.’

‘I didn’t even know my father was King, I didn’t know anything about him and he didn’t know anything about me. So why should I care?’

‘Because,’ she said, her voice soft against his ear. ‘It doesn’t matter who he was or whether he knew who you were, the only thing that matters is that you are a very special person.’

‘But I’m not cut out to be a King.’

‘Yes, you are,’ said Grace and she pressed a kiss against his cheek. ‘You are brave and you fight for the people you care about. That’s all anyone could ask of you. And, you’re not alone, Wayne, I’ll be here to help you. I promise.’

He stared at her for a moment as her eyes told so many different stories and shared a multitude of emotions. He could see himself in her eyes, the brave man who had just saved her and he could see his feelings reflected back tenfold.

‘Would you, would you do the same if I asked you to be my Queen?’

‘I thought you’d never ask,’ she said, her lips brushing against his in the sweetest of embraces.


End file.
